Changing Future
by MajorArcana2
Summary: Maxon's final reconciliation with America re-imagined. Maxon is bitter. America is guilty, lonely, and broken. You'd never guess that they could be brought back together by something as small as letters...
1. Letters

Long-story-short, Maxon _didn't_ end it.

Instead, he made a decision. I'd hurt him deeply, I know. I lied, I kept a secret. Maxon had no reason to trust me. He had no reason to forgive me. No reason to love me.

And he wanted to torture me. That's how Kriss and I found ourselves sitting here, surrounded by four times the amount of competition we'd had yesterday. Yep, that's right. In an attempt to make my life the worst kind of hell imaginable, Maxon had brought back six girls and extended the competition by who knows how much.

It had never been done before in the history of the Selection. But nobody was fooled by Maxon's action. It was incredibly clear that something had happened. Very many people were determined to find out what.

I picked at my food, unable to eat. I was sickened by the idea of competition returning. I was sickened by the idea of losing Maxon. I was sickened – along with guilt-ridden, lonely, and heartbroken – by myself. I was bitterly afraid that anything I was able to force down would instantly force itself right back up again.

"Lady America," I snapped my head up to meet Maxon's cold glare from the head table. His voice was detached and gruff. He wasn't about to do or say something good.

"Yes, Your Highness?" I answered dryly and dreadfully. Heads of my fellow competition – now including Kriss Ambers, Elise Whisks, Celeste Newsome, Anna Farmer, Hannah Carver, and Lyssa Bow – whipped from Maxon to me and back to Maxon again as our conversation ensued. A pang in my heart dug in as I was reminded of my second-ever formal meeting with the prince.

"Is there something wrong with the food?" he asked. I broke my gaze. I couldn't look him in the eye.

"Not at all, Your Highness. I'm just not feeling very well, I guess," the last two words I added under my breath, hidden from the rest of the room.

"Do you need to retire to your room?" He asked, his voice growing impatient. He was daring me to contradict something. To speak out. Maxon was quite effectively torturing me.

"Yes, Your Highness. Thank you," with that, I felt him look away, my cue for dismissal. I stood and made quick work of exiting the room. I felt Celeste's arm brush my wrist as she silently offered support, but tears were brimming my eyes, so I quickly yanked away. Suddenly aware of how the gesture would appear, I smoothly disguised it as simply running my fingers through my hair.

I returned to my room and instantly fell apart. I didn't know Maxon had it in him to be so terrible. The only way I could thing to comfort myself was by telling myself I deserved it.

That's what I repeated in my head, over and over, as Mary, Anne, and Lucy made quick work of changing me into a nightgown. As they tucked me into my bed, one of the only comforting things left here in this cage. As they pretended not to notice the tears even as they brushed them away.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

Maxon had my meals brought to my room for the next few days. But I hadn't eaten. Instead, I would lie in one place, sometimes for hours, and get up only to move to another spot. Once comfortable, I'd cry quietly. Every once in a while, I would write a letter.

Sometimes I wrote to May, or Gerad, or Kenna, or my mother. Sometimes I wrote to my father, even though I knew he could not write back. But mostly, I wrote to Maxon. I still held his letters to my chest sometimes as the rougher sobs took hold of my body.

And then I wrote my own.

I told him how sorry I was. I wrote what I couldn't express in vocal words. I told him how much I loved him. And I wished he'd only give me a chance to send the letters.

But that would never happen, and I had to confront it. "Lucy," I called, my voice hoarse. She was by my side in an instant. I handed her the letters Maxon had wrote me, before he hated me. "Take these back to the prince. They belong to him."

Lucy wore a pitiful expression as she left. I pretended not to notice.

But I actually _didn't_ notice it when Lucy swiped the letters I'd written to him off my desk and took them with her.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

 **(Lucy P.O.V.)**

I travelled with diligent steps to the prince's quarters, but my heart wasn't in it. My body trembled as I walked. But I pushed on. Maxon had to know what he'd done.

"Lucy," Maxon gasped slightly as I wrapped on his open door. He was obviously surprised. "Can I help you?"

I quickly spat out the words to avoid psyching myself out. "My lady asked me to return these to you." I handed him his letters. Maxon eyed them sadly, but then he caught sight of the bundle in my hand.

"Is there something else, Lucy?" Oh, thank goodness. I'd been about to back out. Too late now…

"Glad you asked, Your Majesty. Lady America wrote these to you. She…doesn't know you have them, Sir, so I would read them quickly," I added as I passed him the second pack of letters, only now realizing that her bundle was at least twice the size of his.

Maxon took them tentatively. "How is she, Lucy? In private?" It was then I knew that he was still in love with her. He was genuinely concerned.

"Well…" I hesitated. "Terrible, Your Highness. She hasn't been eating, and only moves to bathe, write to you, or find a different place to cry, Sir. She's heartbroken. She's more than that. _She's broken._ "

I could tell that he hated to hear me describe him this way. And my plan was set into motion, with that. I dismissed myself out into the hall.


	2. For the Redheads

"Miss," the voice seemed to be coming from somewhere deep inside a dream. "Miss, it's time to wake up. Time to get ready for the Report."

I suddenly realized the voice was Anne's, and I had a very real blotchy-crying-stain-concealing-session ahead of me. I snapped to attention, throwing myself up from my balcony floor in an attempt to find the origin of the noise of running water that was my bath.

"I'm sorry!" I shouted.

"It's no worry, Miss. We just wanted to get you ready," Mary quietly appeased

"Right," I mumbled, and let myself fall back into a miserable hush as I let the rose petals wash the stress from my body.

However, as soon as it was time to be dressed and made up, I became bitterly aware of the fact that no such stress-relieving process had been completed. I was still strung out, scared, and sad.

Somehow, I managed to look beautiful. My maids had dressed me in a deep purple evening gown. The top was covered in light purple lace and matching beads, fashioned to cover the necessary and still look gorgeous, while the bottom – starting at my high waist – flowed out serenely until it touched the floor.

I had to hold in a gasp when I looked at myself. It wasn't the first time I said it, and it wouldn't be the last; my maids were blessings. While I quietly admire their strength, they continued to style my hair in brilliant curls framing my face. They added a touch of makeup – enough to make me look like the happiest person alive without looking like a Barbie. How perfect.

That's when I made my vow. No matter how bad I felt, I wouldn't give up on my image. Even if Maxon had practically tossed me aside – into a stream overloaded with crocodiles – I would stand up and shine. I would do it for Lucy, Mary, and Anne. I would do it for my family. I would do it for the Fives.

I would do it for the _redheads._

So I left my room in an excellent flair of confidence, the brightest I'd seen since Maxon's refusal, and I told myself I didn't care.

I nearly fell apart when I had to hide around a corner and wait while a flirty Maxon and kiss-happy Kriss basically bounced into the room where the report was taped. But I told myself, "No, America. Stand up and shine. Easy."

I repeated it – _stand up and shine, stand up and shine, stand up and shine_ – in my head like a Mantra as I walked up and took my seat beside Celeste on the stands.

Ever since Celeste's recent change of heart, all the girls had been happier. We didn't have the stress of sabotage to add on to that of competition and of love and power. It gave the room a light cheer that I noticed had never been here before. And it made this all easier on me as well.

"What's gotten into you?" Celeste prodded playfully. Obviously she had noticed my own change of heart as well. "You never even told me what made you all sad and droopy and now you're all better?" Celeste mockingly gasped, and whispered. "You _did it_ with Maxon, didn't you?"

I nearly choked on…nothing. "I most certainly did _not,_ " though I almost wished Maxon liked me enough to even think about that. "And I was not all sad and droopy.

"You were," Celeste spat with a teasing glare. I was.

But I didn't have time to shoot her a friendly, sarcastic retort because the lights dimmed and the video cameras clicked on. I put on my serene face and thought _stand up and shine. For the redheads_

"Happy Friday, Illea, how has your week been? Well, that's today's Selection topic!" Gavril announced and I had to suppress a groan. "I just can't wait to see how the girls have been holding up with this new addition…" Gavril wiggled his eyebrows at the camera.

"But first," he paused for dramatic effect. "To our Prince, ladies and gentlemen!" Seeing as there were no prior announcements on war progressions or budget disagreements, I could only guess there were none.

"Dearest Prince Maxon," Gavril cooed, leaning up against the royal bar-table-looking-thing the family had in front of their chairs. "Do tell us about your recent decision to bring back these lovely five ladies: Celeste Newsome, Elise Whisks, Anna Farmer, Hannah Carver, and Lyssa Bow?"

I already knew that answer, and I didn't want to hear Maxon's cover story, so I tuned out. I also knew why each girl was brought back. Celeste and Elise were part of the Elite. Natalie was absent because she was still morning her sister's tragic death. Anna had been kicked out because of Celeste's goading, which then lead to a nasty fight between the two, but Maxon – being Maxon – thought Anna deserved a second choice. Lyssa and Hannah were Fives. Like me.

The message on the last two was loud and clear. Maxon could have anyone he wanted. I wasn't special. I was replaceable.

Gavril continued interviewing the prince, and I waited for a time when I would be needed. That time came very quickly. "Okay, the interviews! We'll start with…Lady America Singer, shall we?" Gavril said.

Instinctively, I looked to Maxon. Surprisingly, he was looking back at me. There was no hate in his expression. He was watching me. It was as if he was trying to assess a kind of truth. Like he thought I may have told him a lie. But like I said, his expression wasn't intimidating, hateful, or even angry.

Eventually, I sat in the chair across from Gavril and prepared for extensive emotional exhaustion.

"So," Gavril began. "Tell us. How tense have things been with this recent development in the game?"

 _Very tense,_ I thought, _but not for that reason._ "Actually, I think it's been better. Yes, there's more competition, but I think I speak for all of us when I say it's been relieving to have some friends back with us." _Perfect._

"Interesting. And the prince may have mentioned – at one point or another – that you weren't feeling well. Are you doing better now? How do you feel?"

How do I feel? Miserable. Heartbroken. Lonely. "Excellent," I lied. "Thank you, Gavril, for asking. Yes, I must have caught some bug, but I'm much better now."

"That's wonderful news; I'm glad to hear it. I must ask, how do you feel about your relationship with Maxon? Our inside men haven't been catching a lot of activity between you two. Been meeting a lot in secret, have we?" Gavril winked a little as he said it.

An ice pick was driven brutally through my heart. Don't I wish… But I couldn't say that. "A girl never tells."

I was extremely satisfied with my performance. It seemed Gavril was, too, because he sent me back to my seat, and continued to call up girl after girl. I didn't pay attention to those interviews, mostly because I didn't want to hear their gushy Maxon-make-out stories.

Later on, however, something caught my attention. I got a warm, glowing feeling inside me, like a romantic candle had been lit in the depths of my heart. Maxon.

I had felt his gaze on me, and when I turned to look, sure enough. There he was. But the funniest thing was happening…Maxon was smiling. _At me._ Yes, it had been to my back, but me all the same.

Maxon then seemed to realize he'd been caught, so he looked away hastily. Disappointed, I looked away too.

Five minutes later, the last interview was coming to a close. I gazed nonchalantly at the exit. My heart was clamped in an iron, icy fist. I wanted to be out

Once again, I looked at Maxon. He wasn't looking at me. But he was looking at someone. Then…Maxon reached up quickly and tugged his ear.

I was confused. He wasn't looking anywhere near my direction. Was he…lost? Then – Oh, no. No, it couldn't be.

I watched, paralyzed in absolute horror, as Kriss reached up to tug her ear back.


	3. Normal Friday

If it were a normal Friday, I'd have gone to dinner and then tugged my ear. And then I'd retire to my room and wait for Maxon to come.

If the situation was the same has it had been before I'd seen what I had during the report, I would have gone upstairs to find dinner in my room. And then I'd tell myself he wasn't coming, but I'd keep my dress on just in case.

But now?

As soon as the lights were off, I stood. The tears were heavily rising and I couldn't risk a public explosion. Unfortunately, reality had different plans. "Ladies," Maxon called, a joyous grin on his face. "I'd like you all to join me in the Great Room before dinner. Shall we?"

Several girls bounded up to him for one reason or another, but I hung back. Maxon was going to say he'd made his decision, and that it was time for the rest of us to go home. I couldn't be around for that. I'd black out, for sure.

But the mantra I'd previously assigned myself didn't seem to be easy to get rid of, I thought as it floated to the surface of my mind. _Stand up and shine. For the redheads._ It seemed I'd have to be strong one more time.

I shakily followed the entourage of girls into the Great Room, deliberately choosing a spot hidden away from Maxon, but not from the cameras.

Anna hurried in and found a seat, and Maxon began to pace. "Ah, you're all here. Excellent. I'm afraid I have news."

Oh, no. I'd been right. It wasn't usual that I could be wrong, but this was one time when I _definitely_ wanted to be. I tried to picture Maxon choosing Kriss, and the two of them kissing each other in front of us as we were expected to…clap? This thought only brought up memories of the scene I had just witnessed, and my heart plummeted.

My body shook with horror, misery, anticipation, and betrayal. How could he? I'd told him, when I was leaving on good terms, that that thing was mine. "Don't tug your ear with anyone else," I'd said in that bittersweet moment. "That's mine."

How had he responded?

Oh. Yes, "A lot of things are yours, America," he'd told me, his face grim but caring. And now?

I was boiling so badly with rage, I hadn't even noticed Maxon start talking. "I realized I made a mistake in bringing some of you back here. My reasons were simply not as pure as I'd previously thought them. You have my deepest apologies, but Hannah, Lyssa, and Anna? I'm afraid I have to send you home. To the remaining girls, you five are the new – or rather, old – Elite. Congratulations."

Huh. Not where I'd thought this had been going.

I made my own decision: this assembly was over. I stood, my chair screeching across the floor and drawing the room's collective attention to me. Even those who had been eliminated turned their tear-streaked faces toward me. I stood uncomfortably for a moment, my eyes wandering without meeting Maxon's. Then I spun on my heel and stalked out of the room.

As I jogged down the hall to avoid a curious maid or a contestant or even Maxon himself, I ran my fingers through my desperately tangled hair. The light outside was slowly simmering out, but I was able to navigate the halls through pure memory.

I was only a hallway from my room when I ran straight into – a wall? As I stepped back, I was relieved to find that I was not as clumsy as I previously thought. It was a person. My heart then sunk as I realized _which_ person.

I shot backwards away from Aspen with the force and speed of a bullet. Luckily, I didn't end up on my butt.

"Mer," he whispered, and I realized it was now fully dark and quite silent. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, glaring at him. Any previous feelings of love or even friendship were long gone. I knew it wasn't his fault that Maxon's and my relationship had gotten so wrangled up, but when my mind failed, I formed the only connections I cared to remember.

"Look, I need to talk to you," Aspen said, his fingers lightly brushing mine before he clasped my wrist.

"I don't want to talk to you!" I whisper-shrieked, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to date you, I don't even want to know you!" I could tell my words were harsh, and I'd probably regret them later, but in the moment, I meant them.

In his shock, Aspen's grip loosened a fraction, enough for me to pull away and run to the comfort of my room.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

A blaring siren woke me up at 2:30 in the morning. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, as if it were a normal Saturday, until I realized what the noise meant. I scrambled out of bed and threw a robe over – my day clothes. I didn't bother to take off the robe even though it wasn't needed at all.

I was seconds away from wrenching open the door when I heard a symphony of guttural noises emanating from the hallway beyond the door. I paused, my hand hovering over the doorknob.

I couldn't go out there. I would die. But where else could I go?

The rebels were inside the palace. I didn't have a choice other than to wait it out and hope nothing terrible happened. I flung myself away from the door and hurled my body under the bed just as the door sprang open. My blood ran cold.

I covered my mouth with my hand and didn't move at all. I listened as at least six rebels entered my room.

"Well? Where is she, Gordon?"

"I told you. This is the one."

"I don't see a girl, Dock!" 

"Jeremy, calm down. I'm sure she's somewhere."

"I don't want to hear it, Lucian."

"Guys, wait. Is that…?"

The next thing I knew, I was being hauled out by my feet. I was too paralyzed with fear to even let out a scream. I was hoisted up and then arms were holding me. Four different pairs of arms. Every limb was rendered useless. My chances, rendered hopeless.

"You must be Little Red," one man – the leader, I guessed – chuckled. "The one who told people to _fight?_ To fight _us?_ "

"I should've held my tongue, but… "You're going to kill me because I told people to defend themselves?" I snapped.

He looked at me, surprised, then his head cocked to the side. "Feeling mouthy, are we?" Then his hand drew back and he slapped me hard across the face. It didn't hurt as much as it could, but the force made me gasp in shock.

The other three men stepped away, slightly shot into their own shock by the sudden show of brutality. "Man, Gordon, just chill," one man said.

The man holding me – Gordon – bared his teeth menacingly. "Come on," he growled, and he began dragging me across the room toward the entryway.

A memory surfaced in my mind. When I was little, the Report had started a new segment. They had hired guards to go on TV and demonstrate defense techniques to use in a rebel attack if you were to be attack. I remember seeing this same situation. Now what was it he had done?

I was running out of time. I had very little options and I wasn't about to be taken alive.

And then there it was.

The moves played like a movie in my head, and I followed them exactly.

Gordon had one arm around my neck and the other pinning my arms behind my back. In a flash of speed, I bent forward, then flung my head backwards and knocked Gordon in the nose. He let out a yelp of pain and untangled his arm from my neck to clutch his face. But it wasn't enough.

I recalled the fight clip. With all the force I had, I picked up my foot and brought it down hard. He loosened his grip just enough for me to slip one hand away and whip my elbow backward into Gordon's throat. He fell backward and knocked his head violently into the ground, but he brought me down with him.

The way he fell, my wrist was twisted and I let out a screech of agony that didn't quite cover the sickening crack of multiple bones breaking. But when Gordon hit the floor, he passed out, allowing me to pull my arm away.

The other three stared in shock as I stood, and then they launched into action. Judging by their voices when they yelled at me, the one on the left was Jeremy. The one on the right was Lucian. And the one in the middle was Dock.

Lucian and Jeremy charged forward at me and I panicked, frozen still. Then Dock rushed forward and used the butt of his gun to hit Lucian in the head, knocking him to the ground unconscious. He then spun, shooting Jeremy in the leg. Jeremy also fell, and curled up in pain upon impact.

The room fell silent. Dean looked at me in a curious way, then uttered one single word. "Run."

I didn't even think. I was flying down the corridor. At some point I fell, most likely causing another bone or two to break in my foot, but I couldn't be bothered. I moved down the hall at an unbelievable pace, considering the pain I was going through. I promised myself that if by some miracle I managed to live, I wouldn't let myself mourn over Maxon forever.

Yeah, I nearly laughed, like that could ever happen.

I was running my hand over the walls with my uninjured hand, trying to locate the royal safe room. Suddenly I pushed hard on a wall, frustrated, and tumbled down a set of stairs. Even though pain was coursing through my body in dizzying spirals, I felt waves of relief. Had I really made it?

I stumbled down the remaining stairs and pushed on the door at the end. It was locked. Of course it was. Why hadn't I thought of this?

Shouts and screams could now be heard echoing down the hallway. Once again, I found myself in an impossible situation.

Trying not to draw attention from the rebels, I committed all my remaining energy to throwing myself against the door. I was smart enough to know I wouldn't be able to break it down, but I was at least hoping to make enough noise to alert the people inside.

Then I realized that they might just think I was a horde of rebels trying to attack them. Yikes.

"Help me, please!" I cried. I hadn't even realized I was crying until my shouts came out as sobs. "I'm America Singer, let me in!"

I repeated my cries until I heard a faint click. I held still. Then the door opened.

I'd been leaning heavily against the metal door, so I fell forward when it did. I felt arms, those clad in the armor of the palace guards, pulling me inside. Then a door was slammed and I was lifted onto a cot. There were guards and doctors and even some of the girls surrounding me, but my vision was becoming blurry from pain.

But just as black started creeping into my vision, my vision locked on a pair of chocolate brown eyes…


	4. Inescapable Dreams

The night was filled with inescapable dreams, emotional suffering, and pain I couldn't appease. To say enough, it was one of the worst I'd ever had.

When I finally woke, I moved to sit up, then the broken bones in my hand decided to make themselves _very_ known and I cried out. But it wasn't enough to send some poor nurse running. In fact, there were no nurses here at all. I was still in the safe room.

I had no idea that an attack could last so long. The thought of it chilled me to the bone. I wondered if they were still looking for me. I wondered if Dock, the one who had let me free, had been punished for releasing me.

I observed the room. It was bustling, despite the fact that there weren't too many people. I was tucked into a reserved corner of the room, spread out on two cots pushed side by side. Maxon was slumped in a chair next to his parents. He didn't seem to be quite sleeping; he was staring off into space at…no one. He looked like he needed sleep worse than I did.

I inspected my own injuries. My ankle was brutally twisted at an awkward angle, but as far as I could tell, nothing was broken. I should be able to walk again in a few days. If we got out of here in a few days… My wrist was definitely broken. But it was wrapped and appeared to have been tended to gingerly.

I was absolutely exhausted. I needed sleep to stabilize and heal. But I was afraid. The dreams were one after another, brutal and horrific. I didn't think I could go through that again.

I tried to stay awake for as long as I could, but it wasn't long. I scooted backwards and leaned against the wall, hoping if the dreams got to bad, I might be able to jolt myself awake. I let my eyes flutter shut.

What seemed to be only moments later, a simple touch woke me. I felt someone touch my hand. At first it was only that – a touch. Then it was like someone was grasping my hand as if it was the only thing holding him or her to the earth. I let my eyes slowly open –

Maxon.

He looked startled, like he hadn't been expecting me to be awake. "Sorry," he said quickly, awkwardly. But he didn't release my hand. I almost smiled. Almost. "I didn't mean to wake you, my dear."

Then I did smile. Normally, I'd tell him off for the nickname, but now…it felt long overdue. "I was already awake. Bad dreams," I explained. My voice was hoarse from misuse. I vaguely wondered how long I'd been out.

Maxon's eyebrows furrowed. "No objection?" he questioned skeptically.

"It's better than 'Lady America,'" I told him calmly.

His face fell, and he let his head fall forward. Maxon's expression turned stony. "I know, I'm sorry," he murmured.

I felt a flash of anger. So my nearly getting killed is what it took for him to apologize? I'd realized what I'd done was terrible. I knew that directly from the start. But he _had_ overreacted just a tad bit. "Don't apologize to me, Maxon," I said, slipping my hand out from under his. "Clearly I've been replaced."

"I don't understand," Maxon stated. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" I snapped, and lowered my voice before I drew attention. "I saw you with Kriss. I _told_ you. That was for us!"

"Well, America, I could point out that you took something that was supposed to be ours and threw it away," he growled.

"Are we really doing this right now?" I asked him, my voice pathetically weak.

Maxon sighed heavily and plopped his head into his hands. He changed the subject, though it wasn't any less grim. "How many times have I told you to keep someone with you? In this situation, even you have to admit that we could've avoided some injuries if you had just had someone there," he pointed out.

"Who would I keep, Maxon? A maid? We've talked about that. They spend all day waiting on me, especially in these past few days. I won't do that to them. A guard?" I snorted out loud. "We both know how that turned out."

Maxon winced as I mentioned it, and for a moment I felt sorry. But it went away. "Fine, then. I have a different solution." I didn't bother to ask what his 'different solution' was. I was too exhausted.

The two of us sat in silence for a while, listening only to each other's breathing and the chaos around the room. Distantly, I felt the stares of maybe two girls on Maxon and I, but nearly everyone else was trying to get sleep.

"She doesn't know what it means," Maxon finally spoke again.

"What?" I asked. My tone came out sharper than intended. 

"Kriss doesn't know what it means. The ear tugging, I mean. One night, she came up to me and said she'd noticed me doing it. She asked what it meant. I didn't want to keep secrets from who I thought would be my future fiancé, plus I was still pretty upset at you, so I told her it was a way of saying 'hi.' She believed it, but then she started using it with me. I didn't want to lie to her," Maxon explained.

It wasn't enough. It still hurt so, _so_ terribly. But it was something. "But you did. Lie to her."

"Not technically. Between Kriss and I, that's what it is. Between me and you, it's something entirely different."

I nodded. I understood. My anger was entirely gone. I wanted Maxon to hold my hand again. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted everything back to normal. I slid down and rested my head on a pillow, and then I scooted over so I was occupying one of the doubled cot.

It had the desired effect. I felt the bed jumble around as Maxon laid down next to me. He reached out and clasped my hand, and I was able to fall into a dreamless sleep. But I noticed as the words "who I _thought_ would be my future fiancé," bounced around my mind.


	5. Revelation

**(Maxon P.O.V.) The Previous Friday**

"She's _broken_ ," Lucy finished. Those words bounced around in my brain and my grip tightened on the package of letters she'd given me. The ones from America.

My letters were scattered haphazardly across the desk. I eyed them precariously. "Do you think - ," I went to ask Lucy another question, but she had gone. I hadn't even noticed.

With a deep breath I picked the first letter off the pile.

 _Dear Maxon,_

 _Now – I know for a fact you'll never read this. If you did, I'd most likely be finding myself in a hospital bed or in some other extreme situation. Because I know you. I know that for you to realize what I've been trying to tell you all along, something bad must have happened._

 _That, or perhaps one of my maids was worried I'd try to throw myself off a balcony. If that's the case, I should have a talk with Lucy, Mary, and Anne about personal belongings and what should be done with them…_

 _I'm procrastinating. I realize that. I suppose what I mean to do is…apologize._

 _I've said about 962,000 times, but I'll say it again. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know how much longer I can continue to be sorry._

 _Actually…I do. I'll be sorry for the rest of my life. Even though both you and I know that that is far too long for what I did. I know my mistake extends beyond engaging in a relationship separate from the one you and I have. I betrayed your trust, and being the one person who you thought you'd given it to for good, that put you off more than anything else could have._

 _Plus, you loved me._

 _I love you, too. I love you, Maxon. (America Singer)_

 _There. Now it's on paper. Signed and everything. Something I can never take back, something I'll never want to._

 _I'm sorry and I love you._

 _You Dearest Dear_

My heart was pounding in my chest by the time I finished reading. I sat back in my chair, stunned by her words, despite how simple they seemed. The meaning of each letter, of each word, of each sentence; they were all so beautifully heavy.

I read the next letter, then the next, until I'd read every last one. It was interesting to see how her desperation increased, note after note, until I could see the tearstains across the page.

Once I'd finished with the last letter, I tossed them aside. I let my eyes fall shut and pushed my hands through my tangled hair. America caused me so much stress, but I had no idea if I wanted to be rid of it.

In a flash of what could've been passion, or what could've been pure insanity, I tore a piece of paper from a nearby work journal and wrote it down.

 _I love you, too. I love you, America. (Maxon Schreave)_

There. Now it's on paper. Signed and everything.

Something I can never take back, something I'll never want to.

 **I know this was short, but I wanted to get you a Maxon P.O.V. chapter. By the way, all credit thanks to Virtue01 for the idea suggestion! Till next time,**

 **MajorArcana2**


	6. Redemption Night

When I woke, Maxon was gone. To be honest, I didn't expect any different. Soon, he'd come to his senses and realize what he'd done wasn't what he wanted and that it looked bad in front of other people and –

Wait. No. I think I'm just about done feeling sorry for myself. I'd apologized for what required apologies. I wasn't going to keep begging for Maxon to realize this fact, either. He'd cut the Elite down to four. Why not let it fall to three?

I'd find a nice boy back home. That, or I'd spend all my money as a three letting my family live in the house Maxon had bought for me and providing for them. I'd be their hero. Just like my father had always predicted.

I was done with the crying. And this time, it wasn't for the redheads. It was all for me.

Tonight – as I had been told by Anne once I'd been hurried back to my own room after all the debris and bodies had been cleaned away – the palace was hosting a special showing of the Report as they sometimes did after an extreme attack or the like. I had a feeling my twisted ankle (which was extreme enough to call for crutches) and shattered wrist would draw some attention this evening.

So I let myself enjoy the day that was filled with plenty of nourishing food, a rose petal bath, and countless hours of pampering – all before the time I even needed to start preparing for the Report. But by the time I was done, I could've started crying for a whole new reason.

"It's redemption night, Miss," Lucy had explained when I asked why my maids had outdone themselves tonight. "After a serious attack, everyone tends to put in just a little more effort to prove we all made it through." When I looked around, I could see it was true. Mary, Lucy, and Anne had been put in their dress uniforms, like the ones used when palace guests arrived, and I assumed the Guards would be dressed alike.

"Plus," Anne said in a mischievous tone. "I think it's your redemption night, as well, Miss."

I had a _severe_ feeling that my maids knew something I didn't.

Either way, I looked beautiful. I was dressed in a gown that was the palest of blues, and the patterns of lace coating it made me look elegant, without being extravagant. It was backless, but not in a Celeste kind of way, you know what I mean. It was tighter at my waist, before billowing out – but not too much – to the floor. It was a dream. Plus, with my vibrant red hair, nothing was too extreme.

When I met up with the other girls in the room where the Report was filmed, I was relieved to find they were all just as fancy. This helped to reassure me that I wasn't overdressed.

Kriss was dressed in white that looked stunning on her. Celeste had picked a slimming black. And Elise was dressed in a more conservative red. We were ready. I picked my seat next to Celeste. She was my rock. If she didn't need a man, neither did I, right?

She seemed to notice my happier attitude and was immediately confused. "So…first you take on the sad and droopy attitude. Then something happens and you look all proud. Then you get weird again and storm out of a meeting with the Prince _without_ being dismissed. Then you twist your ankle and break your wrist and you look genuinely happy?" She was shocked.

God knows I wasn't exactly happy, but at least I looked that way. "One: I was not. Sad. And droopy. Two: I was 'weird' again because I saw something so disturbing I would rather not share. And three: let's just say breaking a few body parts puts a few measly emotions into perspective," I counted off each point on my fingers.

Celeste turned sincere. "Since when are emotions measly? Emotions are more important that bones." She gripped my uninjured hand with enough force to leave me with two ineffective limbs. "A broken heart is a hell of a lot more painful than a broken wrist."

Her last words were quiet enough so no one would hear them but me. "How is it that you seem to recognize my pain better than Maxon does?" I asked her.

She nearly choked. "You thing Maxon doesn't recognize it?!" She was so loud I had to yank my hand away from hers just to shush her. Luckily, it seemed no one else had caught it. "God. You're both idiots."

I would've asked her what she meant, but the lights dimmed and flickered back on. Signaling the Report's commence.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

The announcements and briefing seemed to last a lifetime before Gavril finally made his customary grand entrance (even for the less-than-grand situation) and announced he would be asking the Elite questions.

"From their seats," Gavril added, just as I'd started to panic about maneuvering my crutches on live television. "No worries."

Gavril made his way down the line. I was sitting in the third seat, meaning I'd be second to last for questioning. I listened as Kriss and Elise shared their stories and answered his questions. To be honest, everything they'd gone through seemed pretty minor compared to mine.

Actually, my story seemed very easy to handle when I thought about all those people back home. All the sixes, sevens, eights, which had already suffered ten times as worse.

"Lady America?" I snapped to attention.

"Yes, Gavril?" I smiled sweetly.

"Why don't you tell us what exactly happened to you during the attack?"

I took a deep breath, and then proceeded to recount the events of the night. "But," I said when I'd finished. "I can only imagine what it's like for those of us who don't have the security of the palace walls and guards. There are a lot of things that are more painful than a broken wrist.

"All I can say is that when I leave here, I hope I'll be able to help people who have lost more than me," I finished what I believed was an excellent speech.

But the silence in the room was enough to convince me otherwise. I quickly ran over my words, and finally I realized it.

Ugh! How many times was I going to make a mistake on the Report before I learned to watch my words?

"Is that too say you don't believe you'll be staying in the palace much longer?" Gavril obviously jumped on my mistake.

"No!" I staggered. "I just meant – I mean – I've been in this palace for months now and I still haven't gotten used to the idea that I'm here?" I played it off as a dumb moment. It wasn't even half believable, but it'd have to do. I wouldn't be admitting anything so emotionally heavy on national television.

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically.

I nodded, just a little too vigorously.


	7. Back

When the lights and cameras finally flicked off, someone would've thought I'd been holding my breath for the whole Report by the size of the breath I let out. And they wouldn't be too far from the truth. I tried not to look around, because I could tell everyone was staring at me. I'd made yet another mistake and I was fairly sure the king was going to murder me.

I turned to Celeste, wrapping my fingers hopelessly around her wrist, trying to use the much taller girl for a hiding place. Concerned, Celeste began moving, dragging me toward the exit, past the camera crew who was trying to put away their things. I let out another colossal breath when we left, past the door, past-

I added 'Learn not to be relieved about things too soon' to the list of things I needed to do, just under 'Learn how to not be an idiot on the Report' when a body came barreling into Celeste and I from behind. I whirled around, fully ready to tell off the assaulter when Maxon's messed up hair came into view.

Quickly, I looked to Celeste for moral support, but she was already half way down. I glared at her a she went.

 _I will burn the girl._

"A.. America," Maxon panted. He had obviously been sprinting. "I wouldn't...be...so sure," he managed to choke out.

I regarded him curiously. "About what?"

He paused a moment, then flashed the tiniest of smiles. My heart pounced, and it was like I was falling in love with him all over again. "About leaving."

Now it was my turn to smile. I tried to press my lips together to keep from showing how much this meant to me. It did not work.

I couldn't contain the bounce in my step as I headed off towards the dining hall.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

At dinner, it seemed like no one was going to speak at all. Kriss and Elise kept sharing weird glances that they thought were concealed from the rest of us. I tried to stay focused on the massive plate of pasta in front of me. I tried to believe it didn't mean anything.

But when the dessert plates were taken away, I had already grown accustomed to the idea that maybe Maxon was only keeping me here to torture me further. I had trouble thinking of Maxon as the kind of person who would do that, but it wasn't the most far-fetched of ideas.

But everything changed.

I snuck one glance at Maxon, the only time I'd looked at him all meal, and he was already looking to me. Maxon's hand immediately shot to his ear and he tugged it with barely concealed urgency. He didn't even try to be nonchalant or secretive. Celeste, Elise, and Queen Amberly noticed Maxon's action, but only Queen Amberly looked as though she had an idea of what it meant.

Meanwhile, my heart was soaring. Adrenaline pumping, fingers trembling, mind blanking. I couldn't pull on my ear fast enough, though I did it slightly more subtly.

With the thought of seeing Maxon after dinner fresh in my mind, the rest of the meal/clean-up-process seemed to take hours.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

It had been hours. Maxon didn't show up and I decided numbly to change into my night clothes and flick off the lights. But I couldn't sleep. Today had been beyond confusing and I didn't know how to take it. I thought Maxon would come. I thought everything was changing.

As if on que, there was a knock on the door, not a moment after Maxon pushed it open himself and shut it behind him. "I am so. Sorry," He did sound genuinely sorry.

"Well, what happened?" I asked him.

Maxon sat down at the end of my bed and faced me. "My father was a nightmare. He sent three new piles of work up to my room to finish before going to bed. I'm pretty sure his advisers are going to cry when they see how bad their future king's work is when he's rushing."

"I'm sorry about that," I small smile pulled at my lips. This felt like a normal conversation. If felt like we'd gone back to normal. It was slightly weird.

As if to make it only weirder, Maxon shut his eyes, leaned backwards so his head lay on my chest, and snuggled his arms tightly around my waist. I tensed, but wasn't too shocked to take full advantage of this moment.

"Can we just say it?" Maxon groggily mumbled into my shirt. "Say sorry and be done with it?"

I sighed. "I think I've said just about enough sorry's for the rest of my life," I told him.

"Okay," He said. "Then I'll say it. I'm so sorry, America. I've been pretty horrible to you."

I blushed fiercely and was supremely grateful it was too dark for Maxon to notice. "Thank you," I muttered quietly.

"This process is so exhausting," he continued. I started to play with the tips of Maxon's hair and his eyelashes fluttered. "I forgot how tiring it was when you don't have anyone to talk to."

To be honest, I was still a little confused. I couldn't tell if he was trying to say he forgave me and he loved me too, or simply that he forgave me. My head hurt.

I grunted half-heartedly in acknowledge of what Maxon said.

There was silence before Maxon uttered a single sentence that nearly stopped my heart.

"I'm going to pick tomorrow."

My hand stilled. Maxon was already half asleep. "Do you know who you're going to choose?" My voice sounded weak and desperate.

Maxon smiled like he was going through a round of happy memories in his head before he said it. "Yes."

"Who?" I tried to ask like I was being nonchalant.

Maxon's eyebrows furrowed and he answered immediately. "I'm not telling you!" He shrieked.

"Okay, okay," I said giving up.

We sat in silence for another hour or so. I continued stroking my fingers through Maxon's hair and his arms stayed tight around be, a faint, love-struck smile still stuck on his face.

"Are you going to stay?" I asked him when it seemed like the night was coming to an end.

"Yes."

I stiffened slightly. "Why?"

"Because this is my solution," I was momentarily puzzled before Maxon continued. "You won't let me leave a guard by your door and you absolutely refuse to keep your maids here so if something happens, I'll be your savior."

But he didn't know-and for the first part of my life, neither did I—that he'd always been my savior.


	8. Elegant

My maids had me dressed in elegant white.

It made me sick to my stomach, thinking I'd end up dressed for a wedding that most likely would not be mine, but it was tradition. I reminded them over and over that the chances of Maxon choosing me were severely minimal, but they didn't seem to care. The dress was tight around the top and strapless, forming a sweetheart neckline I did enjoy. It blossomed out, flooding down to the floor, as soon as it reached my high waist. The skirt was covered in representations of majestic flowers, with hints and accents of silver. I looked like a bride.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if the palace would let me take home the dress, as I'd certainly love to wear it for my wedding in Carolina.

But I didn't have much time to ponder the thought, as I was soon being rushed out the door by my maids. The hallway was silent, but peacefully so. Not, as I had expected, like the calm before a storm.

Celeste was leaving her room just as I passed it, looking equally as exquisite. Her dress looked like her, and the more I thought about it, I decided my dress looked like me on a much larger scale. The two of us locked arms, joining links with each added girl, until we were a parade of sorts. Celeste, me, Kriss, and Elise, walking dreadfully down the stairs to our fate.

We entered into the ballroom, a rarely used room, to loud commotion. Every single selected girl was here, along with their families. I felt a dull ache in my chest and was reminded how much I missed my mother, and May and Gerad. How much I missed Kenna and the baby, and even Koda. How much I missed my father.

But I didn't have the miss them for long because a flash of brilliant red hair told me that my family was here. I was the first to spot my family, breaking away from the group, but the others followed quickly enough. I crashed into May with crushing force, though neither of us cared. I was close to passing out just from the effort of not crying so as not to spook the little makeup I'd put on.

When I finally separated from her, May began dragging me toward the rest of our family. Only a spark of dismay and dread echoed through me when I saw them crowded around Aspen. You'd really think Maxon would make better choices than that. But my family was _here_ , so I couldn't care too much.

I take long, charging steps toward my mother—though taking care not to run as Sylvia has always taught me—hiding my face in my mother's neck. She mutters lovingly into my hair while May continues to make excited, enthusiastic comments about the palace and the people even though she's seen it all before. I make my way down the line, wrapping myself in Kenna, Astra, James, Gerad. I even hug Koda, but only for a split second.

"I can't wait to live here!" May exclaims, and I'm forced to turn to her sadly.

"I don't think that'll happen, May," I tell her. Slight tears start to gather in her eyes and I utter my next words quickly, to soothe her. "But I'll be a Three now so we'll be living in a house almost as big and _way_ cooler," I promised her.

"Three?" I jumped in shock when Aspen spoke up. And as much as I know nothing that has happened is his fault, it was difficult for me not to glare at him with harsh eyes. "You sure?"

I gather the strength to nod. But really, I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. Truly, nothing in my world is sure.

I begin to make my rounds, circling the people and accepting kind but jealous congratulations from girls who didn't make it this far. But soon my eyes catch on a gorgeous, familiar face that absolutely _shouldn't_ be hidden under a servant's cap and my heartbeat triples its pace.

I resist the urge to shout as I barrel headlong into Marlee. Thankfully, she isn't holding anything in her arms so she reaches to hug me back. We are close enough to a corner that no one even pays any attention.

"How—how did you get here?" I demand, my voice choked with tears I'm determined to restrain. "Marlee…"

But she only hugs me, shaking her head and saying she'll explain when she can. "I have to go," she whispers, barely audible. It takes all the strength I have left to let her walk away.

I wander around for a few more moments, May attached almost painfully to my hip, before a noise like a chorus of bells rings out, a clear sign that it's time. Suddenly all my energy returns full-force, making me tense. I can't look at Maxon as he stands to take the microphone in the front of the room. I try to hide myself in the mob of girls, but my red hair immediately sticks out and I'm pushed to the front by hands of selected girls around me. I stand in a line with the other remaining competitors. We are the line of white heading a sea of color. We are distinct.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

I can't describe the pounding in my head, the pulsing of my fingertips, as Maxon's voice sings throughout the ballroom. _Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump._ I feel Celeste's fingers find mine and silently I squeeze forcefully, not missing Celeste's miniature, unsuspecting wince before I pull my hand away.

I can't look at Maxon. Not even when I feel his eyes fall on me and stay there. It's like he's expecting me to look at him, but I can't. I can't watch him be happy with Kriss or whoever else he's going to choose.

But when Maxon mutters "Oh, dammit!" accidentally close to the microphone, I perk up. As does everyone else. Maxon, thankfully, is not looking at me, rather pulling a tired hand over his face. "I apologize," he murmurs to the room. "I'll need a moment with the girls very quickly. It seems in all my stress I've forgotten to tell them about my choice!"

I feel happy for him when delightful laughter echoes throughout the hall and he's able to relax. I turn toward my family and wait for when it's _really_ time. May looks dismayed. "I was so ready to start bawling," she says. From the corner of my eye, I see my mother slip a camera-phone (most likely borrowed) back into her purse. I start laughing, but suddenly there's a hand on my wrist, startling me have to death.

Maxon snickers quietly when I turn to indulge him, a hand placed feverishly over my beating heart. Then I whirl back around to May, who absolutely saw him behind me, judging by the look on her face. "You warn me about these kinds of things," I tell her playfully. "I thought we were a team."

"Never!" May shouts before I Maxon squeezes on my fingers, causing me to jolt back to the current situation.

"You're up first," he smiles.

 **0.o.O.o.0**

Looking back now, I should've seen it coming. Maxon took me out into the gardens, both of us laughing as we went about extreme screw-up in front of all the girls and their families.

"'Oh dammit'?" I laughed. "That's what you decided to say to the future parents of your future wife?"

Maxon hadn't let go of my hand. Not when he answered, and not when we sat on a bench. "I wasn't thinking about saying it into the mic, just…into…space?" He said it like a question, which made me laugh hard enough to double over and feel tears crowning my eyes. It was difficult to stop, and soon Maxon joined in, making it even harder.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh," he managed to say in between fits of laughter.

I froze momentarily, but didn't want to ruin this, so I countered back. "Just laughing? So the rest of the time I look like a horrid duck?"

Maxon pretended to ponder the thought. "I wouldn't say _duck,_ necessarily…"

He stopped talking when I punched him in the arm. "Ow," he whined, though we both knew it hadn't hurt him.

"No," the laughing was gone from his voice and his eyes weren't on me, they were on his own hand as he brushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I flicked my eyes quickly toward a window and was sure I saw a flash of red hair. "No, you're beautiful always."

He said it like it was a common fact. Like "duh." But it wasn't like "duh." Somehow, when he said it, it meant so much more than it ever had in a treehouse with Aspen. I knew why.

Maxon sighed, slowly getting to his feet. He smoothed down the pants of his dress uniform before offering out a hand to me. "I guess we should head back inside. The others are waiting."

I nodded and stood, but I felt dread settling back into the pit of my stomach. This could be the last time I'd ever be alone with him, and it was ending.

But by the time we were almost inside the doors, I stopped, pulling Maxon—whose arm was interlocked with mine—to a stop as well.

"What is it?" He asked, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that said he already knew.

"You said—you said you'd tell me."

Maxon faked a look of concentration, and then fake remembrance. "Ahh, yes. Well, that's why we are in the one spot of this palace where the cameras and the windows cannot see."

My breathing hitched slightly, but I covered it. "In case I cry?"

"No—well, maybe. Yes, I suppose."

"Okay, can you just say it already?" I snapped though I was smiling. The next moments went slowly and quickly at the same time.

Maxon bent his head like he was embarrassed, and there was a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He lowered himself until he was on one knee, letting his hand glide down my arm until he was clasping my fingers. Not as if he thought I was the only thing holding him to the earth, but as if he thought he was the only thing holding me there. He was right.

"America, I can't wait any longer, so I won't waste what little oxygen I seem to be getting right now on words. I hope you know how I feel about you. Will you marry me?"

I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to yell at him for making me wait so long, making me feel like I was nothing, like he hated me. I also wanted to shout the word YES over and over again until I couldn't speak anymore. But my words seemed to be failing me, seeing as the only word I could utter was, "Really?"

Maxon looked shocked and perplexed. "Yes—what—what do you mean 'really?' Of course, really, America, I'm not teasing you!"

"Okay," I said, looking away to try to regain myself, but finding myself looking back at him just as quickly. "Just making sure."

Then I bent my knees so I was level with him and put my hands behind his neck, bringing his lips to mine in one swift motion. We must have looked like a pair of frogs sharing flies, but I couldn't care less.

He was so much softer then I remembered him, sweeter, too. In that moment I remembered all our kisses, from the first on the balcony to the many in the safe room. Suddenly Maxon's arms were tight around my waist and he was lifting me, without breaking the kiss, off the ground.

I clawed at him, trying to bring him closer, closer. Maxon let my feet touch the ground but wasted no time in walking me backwards till I've hit the palace wall. We're not gentle anymore, Maxon is pushing at me and I'm pulling at him, as if I can make the air between us evaporate.

Maxon is like lightning.

But then Maxon pulls away and I realize it actually _was_ lightning, and not long after there's rain. Our rain. Maxon and I share a glance before he pulls me toward him, burying his face in my hair. I wrap my arms tight around his neck.

"Say it," he breathes, both of us panting hard.

"Yes," I tell him. "I love you, and _yes._ "

Even though I can't see his face, I know he is smiling. It's confirmed when he pulls away and the two of start to head inside, not letting go of each other. "Try not to look too happy," he jokes. "Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."


	9. La Fin

**Bonjour, readers!**

 **Okay, I understand that I didn't make this clear enough but the previous chapter of this story, "Elegant," was the last!**

 **That's right, you've reached the end of this story!**

 **Sorry if the ending wasn't satisfactory but I never actually intended to make this story very long. Thanks for reading anyway, I hope you enjoyed! ;D**

\- **MajorArcana2**


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